Friends Forever
by barneyrockz
Summary: Sequel to Sweet Dreams. Violet Darcy and Henry Hamilton form an unlikely friendship, though their families are not on good terms. With all of the family objections, can their friendship turn into something greater, or will it even last at all?
1. A Funeral

YAY! The first chapter is finally here. It took a long time, what with school and everything, but it's here!

This is a love story with pride and lots of prejudice. Though it's a love story between the children, I do plan to put in lots of stuff about the Darcys, Fitzwilliams, Hamiltons, Bingleys, the remaining Bennets and the Collinses as well as the other minor characters.

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Being second cousins, one would assume that Violet Darcy and Henry Hamilton would have known each other and quite possibly been good friends from birth. At the very least one would have thought that they should know of the other's existence. One would have been very wrong.

At the ages of six and seven, both Henry and Violet were kept ignorant of such a connection. Anne Hamilton nee de Bourgh hated both of the Darcys for foiling her and her mother's plan. The Darcys could not forgive Anne for forcing them into four years of utter misery and misunderstandings, or Lady Catherine for her harsh words spoken to Elizabeth before their marriage. Thus, neither family mentioned their relations and their children were left in the dark. It was not until the funeral of Mr. Percival Hamilton that the two children even saw each other, and even then, they were still unaware that they were related.

Violet did not even know why her parents had made the journey out the Kent in the first place. She remembered hearing that her mother wished to visit a friend, Mrs. Collins, but the visit hardly lasted long at all. Mrs. Collins was busy with her three children and the friends lost all opportunity to converse when Mr. Collins returned.

Why they had come to Rosings to the funeral of a man Violet didn't even know still baffled her. With nothing better to do, she scanned the crowd searching for a face, any face that was familiar. Eventually her gaze stopped on a boy about her age, the only child present with the exception of herself and her baby brother Fredrick.

The unknown boy's face was contorted with pain as the funeral progressed. She could see tears building in his eyes even from as far away as she was standing. He swallowed them back several times, but with each word of the eulogy, they rose up again, each time more powerful than the last.

The eulogy in itself was somewhat of a singularity. It contained very little fawning that was usually wont throughout Collins' sermons. It was derived from the genuine respect and amity that had arisen between the both the Collinses and Mr. Hamilton. Charlotte also had a large role to play in the speech, convincing her husband that it would be in poor taste to have Lady Catherine or her daughter read his eulogy after such a tragedy had befallen them. Having no one else to edit it, Mr. Collins asked his wife to read through it, and found himself rather pleased with the alterations made. Due to their efforts, the eulogy was both heartfelt and touching, bringing many to tears.

All those that knew Hamilton best surrendered to the tears which they could not suppress. Those who had no more than a passing acquaintance with were too gripped with sadness. Out of the many hundreds of people who attended, only two felt nothing whatsoever. And, regrettably, they were the man's own wife and mother-in-law.

Percival Hamilton's easy temper and likeable manner was something that easily won him friends, but, this did not affect Lady Catherine or her daughter. Other than the servants, the only person at Rosings who truly loved him was his son, Henry.

It was the same Henry that Violet saw near tears as he watched his father's casket lowered. As the eulogy neared the end, tears blurred his eyes, and Henry knew he couldn't take any more. With a repressed sob, he ran off, not giving any mind to the inquisitive glances of some of the crowd or the irritated eyes of his mother which followed his retreat.

Violet had been watching Henry for the majority of the funeral, moved by his grief. When she saw him run off, something stirred within her and she sneaked around her parents. Her mother was trying to keep her brother quiet and her father was holding her mother's hand and comforting her. They did not even think that their, always well-behaved, daughter was moving farther and farther away from them.

When she was carefully out of sight, Violet broke into a run, following the same trail as the boy. As she ran, her eyes scanned back and forth searching for him. She did not see him. Finally, as she neared a large oak, she found him.

It was very likely that Violet should have passed this tree without stopping, but for the fact that her seven year old legs would not carry her any farther. She sat at the base of the tree to catch her breath and contemplate whether continuing on was a good idea. Her parents would start looking for her soon, and she did not want to upset them, but something about the boy called to her; gave her the urge to impulsively follow him, needing to relieve his pain. A minute later her decision was made for her. A quiet sob reached her from the other side of the trunk. Picking herself up and brushing of the loose debris that clung to her dress, she carefully walked around the tree.

Henry knew that he had been wrong to run away like he did and he would be punished for it, but he had been pushed over the edge by his mother. Henry had fought the battle with tears, knowing his mother to disapprove of crying. It had been too much though, when she had muttered to Grandmother Catherine, "How long is that insufferable clergyman going to keep droning on about _my husband_? I put up with that man for the past eight years and now I have to sit through this?"

The distain that colored her tone and the total indifference she held towards his father's death chilled Henry. The only memories he had of his father were good ones. He could not think of one instance in which he had been mean or even the slightest bit rude to anyone. There was no praise to great for his father.

"Excuse me," a feminine voice said very softly. She knelt down and rubbed her hand on his back like her mother used to do for her. Henry turned his tear stained face towards her, instinctively raising a hand to brush away his tears. He attempted to stand, as was proper when a lady came near, but she gently put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Please, don't go. I only want to help." Her eyes shown with true concern for his wellbeing. With a sigh he turned away from her, and stood, making her hand fall limply back to her side.

"My father just died! There is nothing you can do." He whirled around and spat the words at her, though regretting them mere seconds after they were said. Still she crouched on the ground, looking up at him with a strange look in her eyes.

Though many people would have stormed away after such an outburst, Violet could not. She could hear the pain in his voice. Instead she looked up at him in pity, waiting for him to give her a sign. Seeing the conflicting emotions on his face led her to believe that he did not know what he wanted. She would wait.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, "I just don't feel myself today. Did anyone else follow me?" Violet shook her head, wondering how no one would have gone to look for the two young children who had gone missing.

"Just me."

"And why did you come?" She opened her mouth to answer, but closed it just as quickly. Why_ did_ she follow him?

"You looked like you needed someone." Henry involuntarily allowed a small smile to appear. He sat back down beside her and they talked. He shared memories of his father and she told him stories of her family to make him laugh. Two hours passed before they knew it.

"Violet? Where are you?" The booming voice of Violet's father was what awakened the two of them back to reality. With a regretful sigh, she said her goodbye.

"Wait," Henry called to her as she took a few paces away, "I don't even know your name."

"Violet Darcy." She curtsied to him with a giggle. With a serious face Henry gave her a somber bow.

"I am Henry Hamilton. Pleased to make you acquaintance." Snatching her hand, he deposited a kiss on it, like he had seen his father do many times before. Violet giggled again and was about to reply, when her father's voice sounded again, much louder this time. She began to pull away, when Henry tightened his grip on her hand.

"You will write to me, won't you? Promise?" Violet looked him in the eye steadily.

"I swear that I will write to you faithfully, for as long as you write to me." With that, she extracted her hand and dashed off, hoping her father would not be too angry.

Henry watched her go his feelings caught in a confusing mix of extreme happiness and regret. For his entire life his father had been his only friend. Now that he was gone, Henry had thought he was to be alone. Now his fear was unfounded. Though he was loathe to see his new friend go, it lifted his soul to know that he would always have a friend willing to listen to anything he had to say. The day had begun in blackness, but it was worth it to know that his future was that much brighter.

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I have no clue how a six year old in the early 1800s would talk. I just guessed. Hopefully it's not too bad.

What do you think?


	2. The First Letters

"Violet Darcy!" Violet had been waiting for this outburst the whole carriage ride back to Pemberley. Her parents would not yell at her in public, but she did not receive that same luxury at home. "What did you think you were doing? Don't _ever_ leave our side again without informing us first! Do you have any idea what we were thinking when we saw that you were gone?" Violet's mother ranted for several minutes. Normally, such chastisement as this was enough to make Violet regret having done whatever it was that she was in trouble for, but this time she knew that, given the choice, she would have done it again. Even if she was subjected to lecture that never seemed to end.

It was not until two weeks after the funeral that Violet could get permission to write to a friend. It had taken that long for her parents to forgive her running off. By that time, when she had asked permission to write to a friend, the idea that it might be Henry Hamilton had not even crossed her parent's minds.

She had not told them that she had met Henry. She hoped that if she didn't tell them of Henry's involvement he wouldn't get the same lecture and punishment that she had suffered through. It never occurred to her that she might be forbidden from writing had she said his name.

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Henry had been anxious for his letter. He had inquired for the post several times a day, hoping that his friend had not forgotten him. Each day he asked in vain. Finally, two and a half weeks later, he was rewarded.

_Dear Henry,_

_I do apologize for not writing earlier, but I had to obtain my parent's permission to write to a friend, and that was a lengthy process, considering I the amount of trouble I was in when we left. Did you receive a lecture too? I hope not. I really do not see what all the fuss was about. I was only gone a few hours. I will spare you the details of my lecture, knowing that however boring it was to listen to, it would be infinitely more so to repeat here. Let it simply be said that it was not a pleasant experience._

_How is life at Rosings? Though we talked for hours, I still know little of your day to day life. I suppose you are forced to take lessons same as me, but perhaps not the same ones. Today alone I had to submit to french, piano, and embroidery. The only pleasant part was the nature walk I took with Mama. This was the first of a while as Mama was still unwell from having Fredrick, my brother._

_When she first made me take these walks, I hated them. It is only recently that I have begun to appreciate the wonders that surround us. I am learning to name the trees and Mama says that if I am quiet I may see a deer on one of the walks._

_Do you take time to stroll in the woods? Do you stop to sniff the wildflowers? Does it not give you a sense of peace?_

_I shall stop my ramblings here, knowing that I have probably written more than you would want to read._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_Violet_

Henry broke into a smile after finishing the letter. It was his first since the day of the funeral. He began his reply, but his first attempt was trashed after only a few sentences. Again he tried, but crumpled papers began to litter the floor around him. Rereading Violet's letter for the fifth or sixth time, he wondered at how she could remain so cheerful, even when writing about being punished. Henry wrote a new letter, but this time he accepted that he could not keep the sadness out of its tone, and he felt that he shouldn't even try. He would be completely honest with Violet and not try to sound happier than he was.

_Dear Violet,_

_Life at Rosings is not so pleasant, I'm afraid. Everything I see reminds me of my father. Without you to distract me, I have begun to be overpowered. I can't understand how my mother stays so unaffected. Even worse than unaffected, she has even scolded me for showing any signs of grief. I do believe that life goes on, and that we must learn to live with the tragedies of the past, but must it really go so fast? Can we not take time to pause and feel? Must we forever charge on, pushing aside all emotions that might get in our way, until our lives become emotionless; meaningless?_

_It seems that rambling is contagious. I shall forgive your falling prey to it if you will do the same for me. My rambling seems the product of too much free time, and so little companionship._

Henry stopped writing to think of what to put next. He was hesitant to ask her about something he had overheard his mother say, but he could think of no one else to ask. She might be as interested in the matter as he. In the end, he decided to add it, though the hesitancy was clear in the letter.

_Thankfully, I did escape from a lecture as horrid as yours sounds, but I did over hear a most distressing thing from my mother. She was talking to Grandmother about "those Darcy's". As much as it pains me to relate this, I must tell you._

_For some reason both my mother and grandmothers seem to hate your parents. I cannot understand why. I tell you this with the hope that perhaps you might ask your parents and put an end to this mystery._

_You will write to me again, won't you?_

_Henry_


	3. Adventures

**So sorry! I've been working on the personalities I want for each of the characters because the way this chapter first came out they seemed a bit too much like D&E. They may to some degree still have that feel (Violet is Elizabeth's daughter after all, and Henry has been under the care of Lady Catherine and Anne his whole life) there will be a difference. Enjoy.**

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_Dear Henry,_

_As you requested in your last letter, I have asked my parents if they had any connection to your family. In order that you might make more sense of it than I; I will give you a detailed account of how the interview went. Before I begin, however, allow me to say that the end result was not very rewarding._

_After my brother was put to sleep, I was in the drawing room with both my mother and father. Mother sent the servants to bed, so we were alone. I thought this very convenient and I did not hesitate to make use of the situation._

"_Mama, Papa," they turned to look at me. "Why did we go to the funeral in Kent? Do you have some connection with either the Hamilton or de Bourgh families?" Mother's eyes widened and Father's brow furrowed. They passed a look between each other. It was a long time before they answered. _

_Finally Mother nodded to Father, telling him to answer me. Father then ran a hand through his hair, something I've only ever seen him do a few times before and only when he is nervous, troubled or agitated. At the moment I could not tell which._

_Father did answer me, if you could call it that. He spoke in response to my question at least. It has been more than a day since this conversation, but still the thought of his answer irritates me._

"_We'll tell you when you're older."_

_What kind of answer is that? Dear Henry, please write soon. Perhaps you can make more of this than I could._

_Your irritated friend,_

_Violet_

Henry had anxiously been awaiting this new letter, but upon reading it, he was left with disappointment. Violet had been given the answer which all children hate above all others. He could only tell that the Darcy's did have some kind of connection with his family, but that much he already knew.

But how could they find out what the connection was? Violet's parents wouldn't tell her and Henry knew enough of his family to know that he would not find any answers. For now he supposed they must allow it to remain a mystery. They could do nothing else.

_Dear Violet,_

_I am afraid that I couldn't make much more of the interview with your parents than you could. It proves, I suppose, that our families have a history and that the history is not so pleasant. This much we already knew, however. I do wonder at your parent's agitation though. If they will not tell you, I have no other solution. Having no more to say on this matter and a full page to fill, I shall continue with life at Rosings._

_Life has reverted back to a somewhat normal state. My riding lessons are one of my favorite parts of my day, as well as the walks that I take through the park. I do also enjoy gardening, though I don't believe my mother would approve. I have grown fond of the outdoors, even more so than I used to. Mother is always too sick to take walks out here. I confess that I also enjoy the outdoors as a way to escape her._

_You have seen a portion of the grounds here at Rosings, but I know nothing of the park around your home, Pemberley did you say it was? We have many gardens here, planned and perfect, but there are also grand woods that are pleasant to walk through. I confess I cannot say which I enjoy more, the manicured gardens or the untamed beauty of the woods._

_Mother informed me yesterday that I was to go to school. I do not know where, nor when. All I can say is that I fear to go to a new place alone. Will you promise to continue to send me letters? I would like very much to take a friend with me, even if it can be through no more than periodic correspondence. _

_I beg you, most fervently, to write again._

_Henry_

When Henry had first been told that he was to go to school, it terrified him. Indeed, to a lesser degree, it still did. He would never be fully comfortable, but to think that he would not be alone in this new adventure was a very welcoming thought. Even if the correspondent would be a great distance away, he had a friend, one he was unafraid to tell anything. It did much to quiet his fears. At his school there would be many companions of his own age and sex, but he did not feel that such a connection he had felt with Violet would come again.

Violet, on the other hand, strived to surround herself with playmates often. She enjoyed the times that her Bingley cousins came to visit, but it never seemed often enough. What was a seven year old girl to do when left to her own devices? Climb trees and generally make a nuisance of herself. Violet loved to reenact the tales that her aunt, Georgiana, would tell of daring rescues and adventures. Only, somehow, whenever Violet acted out the stories, it always seemed that the prince was the one captured and held hostage by a dragon or ogre or some other manner of fairytale beast. There was never a damsel in distress, just a brave warrior out to save her prince.

Not that she would tell anyone of her daring rescues. She had tried once, only to be informed—quite sternly—by her governess that such fanciful dreams were unladylike and should therefore cease. Now, Violet's escapades were hidden under the guise of solitary walks.

Despite the apparent impropriety, Violet longed for an adventure of her own; one that would test all her strength. Strength of mind, strength of body and, most importantly, strength of heart. Little did she know, though there would be no dragons or ogres, she would soon embark on an adventure that would traverse the untamed and mysterious workings of her heart.

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**I promise the next one will focus more on their homes/school and less on letters. Darcy, Elizabeth, Bingley, Jane and all the other characters that we love (and perhaps some we would rather did not exist at all) will appear soon.**


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